The Gig is Up
by Jojo45
Summary: A handsome and well requested gigolo meets his match when his newest client calls all the shots. But he's in for a shock when his normal night out is anything but . . . ONE SHOT


The Gig Is Up

I lit up my third cigarette of the night after straightening my bow tie in the mirror. Somewhere in my loft, I could hear my cell phone ringing, but I was in no hurry to answer it. Rosalie had already called three times in the last thirty minutes to make sure I knew exactly where I was going and who I was to meet tonight. Personally, I could care less who I was meeting. I knew that whoever she was, she was going to have loads of money, and that's all I cared about. A guy like me never hurried for a date; it was always customary for Anthony Masen to be fashionably late, which is usually typical of most females. I liked to turn the tables on them to make sure they knew who they had just hired.

Of course, Anthony Masen wasn't my real name. It was close enough though, given they were my middle names. Using Edward Cullen would not be wise in this line of work. It wasn't that I was ashamed of my real name; I just couldn't afford to have anyone associate me to my old life. My parents would frown upon my current profession, especially since they'd spent a lot of money on my highly polished Ivy League education.

The elaborate education I received would have landed me a nice job behind a desk somewhere, leading some important company to wondrous heights. The problem is, it wasn't my dream. It was my father's. I found it dreadfully boring and way too stressful to attend boring meetings and discussing stocks with the graying members of a board of directors.

In my line of work, I had to look my best, so acquiring the right wardrobe was of utmost importance. Rosalie made sure of that. When I had secured the position of being her top man, it came with the territory. Armani tuxes along with Gucci suits adorned my closets as well as more designer shoes than Carrie Bradshaw could count. It was my style and class, not to mention my good looks that allowed me to be the most requested of her richest clients. Being great in the sack probably helped a little, too.

Sometimes, I just escorted them to a fashion show or a Broadway play. Other times, I accompanied them to the fancy parties of wealthy philanthropists or maybe just a quiet dinner for companionship. One thing was for sure; if they wanted me to stay the night, they were never disappointed. I stubbed out my cigarette in the crystal ashtray and popped in a breath mint. The damn cell phone chirped once more, beckoning me with its constant tweeting, so I walked across the room towards the balcony doors to retrieve it from the end table. It was a beautiful night as the New York City skyline brightly shone in the distance.

Grabbing the phone, I started scanning all of Rose's texts. Geesh, did she think I was new at this or what? My thumb pressed against the screen, pushing up to start at the bottom.

"_Lady in long silver dress named Angela will meet you in the lobby of The Dakota . . ."_

Nice. I've never been in that building before. Ever since John Lennon got shot there, I've always wanted to go inside it.

"_She will take you to the penthouse to a private engagement. It is there you will wait to be summoned by your date for the evening. _

Not all that surprising.

"_Oh, and one more thing. It's a masquerade ball. Angela will give you a mask upon arrival. I know you like to be late, but don't. This client has a lot of money, and I'd like her to be a repeater. Don't blow it._

Checking my cufflink, I tugged once more on my shirt sleeve and glanced in the mirror. _Not bad, Cullen. _I wondered if the woman was old enough to be my mother. Not that I care, but it would be nice to be with someone close to my age tonight. It was New Year's Eve after all, and for some reason, I was feeling a bit nostalgic. If she was going to wear a mask, I might never guess her age. _Well, at least until her clothes were off._

Grabbing the keys to my Aston, I headed out the door and down the elevator. The drive was only a half hour, and as much as I didn't want to be on time, I'd better keep Rosalie happy.

Just as she'd promised, a girl named Angela met me in the lobby. She handed me a mask along with a short list of instructions.

"Hello, Mr. Masen. It's so nice to meet you. You come highly recommended." She gave me a firm handshake which meant she was all business.

"Likewise." When I was on the clock, I didn't like to engage in small talk with anyone but my paying client. I was here for one person only.

"As I'm sure you know, discretion is at the most utmost importance. Since you're Rosalie's top guy, I know you'll respect the rules I'm about to set forth."

I looked at her calmly and nodded. This was typical. Most rich women bestowed rules as much as they collected Harry Winston jewelry. I think it gave them an air of superiority before our night even started – just to show us who's boss, so to speak.

Angela continued. "Your client has requested for you to not know her name. Apparently, you were referred by someone in her closest circle. Secondly, no touching allowed unless she touches you first. This party is of extreme significance to her, and she won't allow you to interfere with that. You are to be arm candy only. If she requests something, she expects you to comply. With me so far?"

"Quite." _Oh, brother. This is going to be a swell night. No talking, no touching, fetching things here and there. Can't wait_.

"Here is your mask. You are to wear it at all times unless she asks you to take it off. Lastly, you may engage in small talk with the guests, but keep it limited. She's afraid you might be noticed, given your reputation."

"Excuse me?" I grabbed the mask from her. The woman was insulting me before I even stepped foot in the door.

"You must know what I'm talking about. Let's be realistic, Mr. Masen. You didn't get to the top by your 'good deeds and keen business mind.'"

"With all due respect ─ Angela, isn't it? I'm the best at what I do, and I make no excuses. I'm not stupid either. Not that you need to know this information, but I have an MBA from Harvard and I graduated at the top of my class. You don't need to patronize me."

This Angela woman had the audacity to talk a slow walk around me, eyeing me up and down like a terrorist or something. "Hmm. She sure knows how to pick them. She never ceases to amaze me. Very well, then. I'm afraid I've underestimated you. Obviously, she has done her homework once again. The bottom line is she is not made out to be a fool. If you get recognized by someone here, it could ruin her. She has a lot to lose."

What kind of game was this? "Look, you know what I do for a living, and obviously I don't pick my clients. They pick me. I can't help it if someone recognizes me. That's the chance she's going to have to risk. Take it or leave it."

She crossed her arms in front of her and tapped her finger on the side of her lip. "I'm a paid employee as well, Mr. Masen, so I do as I'm told. She wants you for some reason. We'll quit the chit chat and get on with it. Please remember what I've told you. So, let's go up now, shall we?"

She escorted me to the elevator. I took this time to take in my surroundings. It was beautiful in here. The elevator was adorned with mahogany wood with lion heads prominently displayed at the top. Marble floors lined the lobby as well as the walls and the Christmas decorations were still up. Wreaths and twinkling lights were hung through the lobby halls along with sparkling white and silver ornaments and bows. It reeked of old money. Wealth beyond most of our imaginations bestowed this buildings occupants, and I have to admit it was nice to be among its inhabitants for the night.

The elevator finally arrived, and we stepped inside. Angela punched in the number seven while I took a glance of myself in the elevator mirror one more time.

"If I don't know her name, I'm taking it that you will introduce me as her date for the night? She obviously knows what I look like if she requested me."

"Apparently, she doesn't. Your client is somewhat of a mystery. As I stated earlier, she took a friends advice and requested you. I don't believe it was for your looks as much as your background. She asked Rosalie to send your bio over to her, but nothing else."

What bio? As long as I've worked with Rose, the only information she's requested from me is my measurements and basic things like eye and hair color. I might have mentioned some personal likes such as favorite restaurants and tourist spots, but other than that, no one knows my personal business.

"Excuse me, but I don't have a bi-"

Angela interrupted me as the door opened up to the penthouse. "Here we are. She'll be the one in the red dress. Have a good night, Mr. Masen, and please don't disappoint us."

And just like that she was gone. The elevator doors shut as I took in the view. Men and women milled about in beautiful ball gowns and tuxes adorning their masks as they talked amongst one another. One thing I did notice which was peculiar was the attire was all black and white. Every woman wore a white dress as the men had on traditional black tuxes. Strange. I could have sworn she told me my client would have on red.

It was time for a drink, so I sauntered over to the bar. I hated wearing this stupid mask, but everyone else was wearing one as well, so I didn't want to look conspicuous. The bartender asked my order.

"Gin and tonic, please. Heavy on the gin." I glanced around the room, looking for the mysterious "woman in red". This whole thing sounded quite ludicrous. How long was I to roam the room until she decided to show up?

There were lots of wealthy people in the room. Anyone could tell by the sparkly jewelry and pretentiousness in the air. I walked around a bit, mingling to see if I might notice anyone. It was quite hard to do since everyone was wearing these ridiculous masks. They were itchy and making my face sweaty.

The music was festive but diverse for this crowd. The small quintet played everything from Bach to Katy Perry which was quite comical. It did seem to suit the demographic though, and no one seemed to mind. I couldn't tell if there was anyone of importance in this mix; I really didn't care. My mood started to worsen as the hour went by.

Two gin and tonics and one dirty martini later, a man took the stage that was set up in the middle of the room. He started talking about how appreciative he was that there was a great turnout. Apparently, this was some sort of fundraiser for a pediatric disease. This piece of information would have been nice to know. I'll have to thank Rosalie later for excluding that little tidbit.

As his droll speech began to ramble on, I checked my watch. One hour and thirty minutes had gone by and still no sign of my mystery date. I heard the man start to introduce someone of importance. At least I gathered they were important as he started going on and on about her contributions. I ordered my fourth drink of the night when the orchestra struck up a soft melody.

"Our mysterious donor would like to remain anonymous but has graciously accepted my invitation to appear onstage. You see, we have a very special award we'd like to present her with, and without her valiant efforts in trying to find a cure for this dreaded childhood disease, many children would still be suffering today. Ladies and gentlemen, this kind woman has donated five million to our cause tonight. It was her idea to have the theme of masquerade ball; apparently she's quite shy but, fortunately very benevolent. Please put your hands together for this wonderful angel!"

The bartender slid my second martini to me as I caught myself wondering what kind of idiot just throws away five million like it was nothing. It wasn't that the cause wasn't great, but five mill? She must have either come from old money, or was one of those geniuses from a start up Internet Company.

People were clapping, giving this person, yet to show up, a standing ovation. I tossed a five dollar tip on the counter and made my way up to the front of the stage to see what the old bitty looked like. Her husband must've have left her his company in the will or something.

Off to the right, I caught a glimpse of a beautiful brunette with a smashing body sashaying across the stage. Her mask covered most of her face as I remember the host telling us of her anonymity. Her stature was one of confidence, poise and beauty. Diamond earrings dangled and sparkled from her ears as she stood in front of the mike to speak. She spoke eloquently while she so graciously accepted a small crystal award. I didn't hear most of what she had to say; I was only focused on one thing. Her red dress.

Well, well, well. She wasn't old. She wasn't fat, and I'd bet five million that the face under the mask was going to match the slamming body quite beautifully. Suddenly, I wasn't put off anymore. I was quite intrigued.

Her speech was short, but informative and to the point. Obviously, she cared a great deal about finding a cure of some disease I'd never heard of. It sounded obscure. Maybe her niece or nephew was diagnosed with it for her to give such a hefty sum. She finally quit speaking and made her way into the crowd. I went over and found a quiet table in the corner. Somehow, I gathered she would be appreciative. It took her twenty minutes to find me. For some reason, my body tingled all over at her close proximity. Was I just intoxicated by her generosity or her beauty?

She stuck out her red gloved hand, and I reached over to bring it to my lips. I had to be the gentleman she so highly paid me for, so I needed to act the part. Remembering the rules, I knew that I was now allowed to touch her until she made the first move.

"You're my date, I presume?" She spoke in a quiet but firm voice.

"Very observant of you since presumably you didn't know what I looked like."

I got up and pulled out her chair for her. "It wasn't that hard to figure out. You've followed the rules to a tee tonight. You were low key, only spoke when spoken to, and besides, you've been sitting here alone for ten minutes in a quiet corner table."

"Someone has been spying on me. I can assume you weren't waiting backstage all night then? You could've approached me before now."

She replied with a light chuckle. "Now where would be the fun in that? When I spend top dollar on something, I want to make sure I'm getting my money's worth."

"Meaning . . . you needed to see if I was a rule follower? Or you're just a major control freak? I'm betting on the latter." I picked up my drink, taking a gulp but not taking my eyes off her. She was even more striking up closer. Her confidence was amazing, and I could tell she was a woman who always gets what she wants.

"Actually, you have me pegged quite wrong. I don't like being the center of attention."

A snort escaped my mouth. "You could've fooled me!"

Her eyes quickly widened. "Excuse me? Why do you say that?"

"First off, you donated the most money at this event tonight. Five million dollars is quite the price tag. Secondly, you are the only woman in this place to be wearing red. You have noticed that, right?"

A server approached us asking if we wanted anything. She ordered a bottle of Dom Perrignon 1996 without blinking an eye.

The server just stared at her for a moment. "Um, excuse me miss, but you do know that the cost is two thousand dollars a bottle? You might want to rethink that."

My date replied as if she were buying a pack of chewing gum. "Not a problem. I'll give you my card when you return with it."

He scurried off probably grinning ear to ear; his tip was sure to be huge.

"For your information, Sir, they told me it was a Fire and Ice ball. I requested the masks for anonymity reasons. They neglected to fill me in on the attire for the evening."

"That's not very nice of them after you unloaded all that cash."

She picked up her purse, pulling out her lipstick to touch up her luscious, plump lips. Damn, they were nice. I'd like to see the rest of her face, but I didn't think it was time just yet. The music started up and couples started strolling out to the dance floor. This was my cue.

"Would you care to dance?"

"Not particularly." The lipstick was put away, but she started looking around as if she was searching for someone.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"No. No questions. I paid you for companionship only, not to drill me on my actions."

The server decided to come at the right time delivering the ridiculously expensive champagne. Usually I had the upper hand in these types of outings, not the other way around. I hadn't quite decided if I liked it or not.

The server poured the champagne in our glasses, leaving the bottle on the table. The few drinks I'd had were beginning to change my mood. Without getting to speak, I found myself a little out of my league.

We sat quietly for a couple minutes. What exactly did this woman want out of me? Finally she spoke up.

"I need to keep up appearances. The Berkeley's are over there and are major contributors to my charities. You will escort me over there, but please, no conversation with Paul. He's too chatty for my liking."

I said nothing as instructed. Before we left, I had to try the champagne. Lifting the glass up to my lips, I took a sip while my date turned and looked over her shoulder at me. Her big, brown eyes suddenly looked a bit familiar. I wasn't sure why, but a vague tingling ran down my spine. It could've just been the pricey alcohol as it slid down my throat. This was the first time I'd ever had a two thousand dollar bottle of champagne, so I'd be damn if I was going to waste it. I grabbed the bottle and my glass. If I had to act like a stool pigeon, I might as well look like one.

She turned her back on me and proceeded to walk away from the table. The back of her dress was striking; it was completely open except for the zippered gathering at the waist. It was held together by the clasp at the back of the neck. She was so tiny and slender. Her dress accentuated just the right parts of her which I'm sure was no accident. Of course, with her wealth, she could afford clothes that were custom tailored to her liking.

_Just like me, interestingly enough._ I followed her over to her wealthy friends, nodding my head and not saying a word. They probably thought I was an idiot – which I probably was for agreeing to such ridiculous terms. The more the alcohol kicked in, the more pissed off I got. We went from one group of wealthy benefactors to another. The only good thing out of all this was the champagne I was drinking. All she kept talking about was medical funding and finding the top professionals in the field. Quite boring.

She was playing me like a puppet. I agreed to it though because this is what I did. I really didn't care about the humiliation factor. Money had many purposes in life; to most, it was hard to come by and disappeared as fast as it came. For me, it wasn't just money. It was the _love of money_ I had a problem with. It consumed me. My every being thrived on having every luxury item I could ever want. I had acquired a great many things in life because I wanted it all. Nothing was ever good enough, and I'd never cared how I obtained them.

The only reason I even entered into this line of work was the money. Well, that and I didn't care about being into a relationship. Women came and went out of my life like yesterdays newspaper. No woman had ever struck my fancy; at least to the degree with keeping them around for more than three dates. The one and only time I let myself get close to someone; she left me stranded without a single word.

Granted, I had some regular clients, but that's all they were ─ clients. I got paid extremely well to make them happy for whatever the occasion might be, and they were all more than satisfied.

However, this woman infuriated me. I wasn't used to women not paying me any attention. I was supposed to make them feel good about themselves. It was as if I wasn't in the same room with her. Walking from person to person, lagging around behind her was getting tedious and boring. What the hell was she even paying me for?

The latest couple we were talking to, some prestigious doctors, just relayed their many accolades about how beautiful she looked and how generous her donation was which made me want to gag. We had only heard that a thousand times now.

As if hearing my inner thoughts, my date suddenly decides to notice I was standing next to her. "Dear, I appreciate you coming with me tonight, but I know you have an early business meeting tomorrow. I'll have the car come around for you."

The Langfeld's, I believe their name was, looked over at me through their silly masks expecting me to say something. I was flabbergasted.

"Oh, right. I almost forgot about it." I had no idea what she wanted from me or why she even asked me here tonight. However, if she wanted to pay me five grand to show up and say a few sentences, drink expensive liquor, and look good in a tux, I supposed it was worth it. Easiest money I've ever made.

I extended a handshake to the couple and bid my farewell as I made my way toward the exit. Before I made it to the coat check, I felt a small hand tugging at my elbow. Turning around, I saw the baby browns peering up at me through the mask.

She rose up, whispering to me in my ear. "Your money will be with Rosalie tomorrow. The white limo is waiting for you downstairs. Thanks for spending time with me."

It was something about the way she phrased her words that stilled my body. Where was this sense of familiarity coming from? Her scent was intoxicating even though I was hardly close to her tonight. The closeness of her body to mine felt like I'd been in this position with her previously, but when? Before I could ask her just who the hell she was, she was gone. It wasn't even midnight yet; hell, it wasn't even eleven o'clock! Who asks a high priced escort to leave a New Year's Eve party before midnight?

Taking off the mask, I had just made it down the steps outside the famous building as I heard a ruckus going on over by the limousines.

A few drivers were gathered around in a huddle, bending over someone who had either fallen to the ground or was in serious need of medical help.

"What's going on?" I tried to make my way over to them but the security manager was already on the scene.

"Please, everyone, step back. We have an ambulance on the way." Other limo drivers were walking backwards, giving the man some air to breathe.

One of the drivers stood beside me, shaking his head. "Man, I hope he's all right. One minute he was standing there, and the next he just collapsed."

"Will he be all right?" I asked, pulling my collar up closer to my neck as the chilly air was getting brisk.

The man turned and looked at me. "Don't know, but I think he might have had a mild heart attack. Were you looking for a ride?"

"Um, yeah. I'm Anthony Masen. I'm supposed to have a limo. The white one over there, I presume." I pointed down to the only white limo lined up next to the curb.

The man beside me chuckled. "Figures. You just lost your driver, buddy. I suppose I could give you a lift seeing how my client's not going to need a driver for another hour and a half. However, I do have another passenger to drop off first. Is that okay with you?"

I thought about this for a second. It was New Year's Eve, and I still had an hour before midnight. I wish I'd known I'd be home this early. It would've given me time to call someone over to ring in the New Year.

"Sure, why not." I gave the driver my address and climbed in the back. To my surprise, a young girl was sitting in the back on a computer. She couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen.

"Hello, there." I held my hand out to her as she glanced up from the screen. The glow from the computer illuminated her face to show a beautiful pre-teen with sparkling green eyes and light skin. Her hair looked to be my color, oddly enough and she had a smattering of light freckles across her nose.

"Hi!" She returned the handshake and carried on her business.

I was curious as to what a young girl was doing out this late at night but didn't want to pry. After a ten minute drive of silence, I thought better of it.

"So, what's your name?" It was getting warm in the car so I pulled my gloves off.

"Elizabeth Grace." She went back to typing but stopped after a minute. "What's yours?"

"Anthony. What has you up so late and in this huge limo on such a cold night?"

Her smile was big, but warm. "Well, it is New Year's Eve, you know? I was waiting on my mom. She was giving away a bunch of money at some ritzy party tonight."

What? I was curious to see if it could possibly be my secret client. Granted, there were other women who gave away quite a bit of money tonight, but most were couples. This night was more interesting by the hour.

"Oh, that was very nice of her. What about your dad? Is he in there too?" I figured since I was on a roll, I'd let it continue.

She looked down at her computer for a second. Her brow furrowed, and her face looked so forlorn. "I don't have a dad."

Uh-huh. It had to be my date. It isn't that surprising to find out my clients has kids, but this one seemed pretty young to have a daughter this old.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Were you coming in to the party?"

"Nah. Thomas just picked me up from grandma's house a little early because she was visiting friends. He was on the way to take me home when he saw the commotion outside."

"I got it. Is there someone waiting on you at home then?" Why did I care so much? I guess with all the shroud of secrecy this evening, I felt like I deserved some answers.

"My nanny, Leah. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Is there someone waiting at home for you?" Elizabeth Grace closed her laptop. She looked up at me waiting on me to answer.

Except I didn't have an answer. For the first time, I felt sorry for myself that I had no one to go home to tonight. Weird.

"Um, no, there isn't."

"That's sad."

"Why is that sad?"

"That you're all alone for New Year's Eve. You know, no one to kiss at midnight and all that?" She grinned a big toothy smile at me.

"And how do you know about kissing at midnight?"

"Puh-lease. Everyone knows about that. Adults like to get all mushy at midnight."

This girl was quite amusing and pretty smart too. Her mother had provided quite the upbringing for her.

Elizabeth's skin looked pale even in the darkened car. It was lowly lit from the car's side lights but still noticeable. Even though her eyes were beautiful, there were dark circles under them.

"You look tired. It's probably way past your bedtime, huh?" I tried to be subtle, but curiosity got the best of me.

"Yeah, I'm a little tired. It's probably the meds though. They make me look like this a lot."

"The meds?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sick. I have been for awhile now. Mom's tried to find me a donor, but no luck so far." She hung her head down like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Suddenly, things started clicking into place. It was her daughter that was ill. The donations, the mingling, the long winded conversations with all those professionals we met tonight started making complete sense.

"You're the reason," I mumbled to myself softly.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was just at the fundraiser. Your mother donated quite a bit of money tonight – to help you out, I presume."

She looked out the window as we passed through Central Park. "Yeah. She never stops trying. Once I was diagnosed a few years ago, she's been on the phone constantly with doctors and hospitals all over the world. I'm on the donor list, but it doesn't look good."

Usually I was one to be heartless, my veins coursing with iron instead of blood, Rosalie once said. For some reason, this girl tugged at my heart strings.

"Ever since we lost Grandpa Charlie, and then my diagnosis, she hasn't done anything else. Her life is dedicated to helping me survive."

Charlie, Charlie, Charlie. Do I know a Charlie? The only Charlie I knew was her . . . Wait. A. Minute. Visions of a young, brown haired girl with big brown eyes clouded my brain. The same brown eyes I saw just thirty minutes ago, perhaps?

"Was your grandpa from a small town in Washington?"

Her eyes lit up. "Yeah, how did you know that? Forks. That's a funny name, right?"

"Um, if you don't mind me asking, have you lived all your life in New York?"

The girl looked at me wearily. "I'm sorry, sir. I really shouldn't be talking to you. Mom said never talk to strangers. However, for some reason you don't seem to be strange. I've lived most of my life here, yes."

"Let me guess. You moved here when your mom was pregnant with you." Now it was all starting to make sense. The unanswered phone calls, avoiding me in the halls at school, leaving before graduation . . . The only thing that didn't make sense was why the hell she didn't tell me.

I studied the girl in front of me for a few minutes until she called me out on it. "Sir, why are you staring at me?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry. It's just . . . you remind me of someone I once knew. Someone I cared very deeply for."

Elizabeth's eyes scrunched tighter. "Wow, that's weird."

"What's weird?"

"My mom tells me that all the time – especially when she looks at my eyes."

Now it was my turn to look out the window. I ran my hand through my hair, my mind going crazy right now. We were together for only a short while, but I'll never forget her. She was the shy, new, girl, and I was the jerk who coerced her into my bed one night. I deeply regretted that night and tried to let her know repeatedly I was sorry. For some reason, sex with her was different than the other ones. I knew my reputation preceded me, but I tried to make amends with her. Weeks later, she up and disappeared. Now I knew why.

Time stood still for a moment. I knew exactly why she looked me up tonight. She needed my help, and for once, I wasn't going to let her down.

"Elizabeth, do you know the requirements of a donor?"


End file.
